“She’s a nice horse,” said one of my fellow students.
“She’s not a nice horse,” I said.
“Yes she is.”
No, she’s not. Gabby is not a nice horse. She’s beautiful. She’s drop-dead beautiful. She has lovely eyes and a soft, soft coat and she’s just dazzling, dazzling — but nice? Nope. Not nice.
A couple of weeks ago, I watched another student chum, Audrey, ride Gabby during a lesson. I’m not entirely sure what happened, but Gabby did a strange little hop and splayed out her legs. It ended well enough and Audrey did not come off of Gabby, but she was a bit scared and made mention of her pounding heart. Later, during that same lesson, Gabby became overheated and did not sweat. Perhaps she forgot? Forgot how to sweat? Somehow, I wouldn’t doubt it. Audrey got her hosed off and all’s well that ends well and all that — but somehow this didn’t suprise me that the horse wasn’t sweating. Naturally she wasn’t sweating. Sweating would be too easy.
A few days later, Audrey was riding Gabby again. The lesson was over and I was on the ground when I saw what looked like a bit of blue fluff on Gabby’s face. Stepping forward to brush it away, I noticed that the fluff was thread — Gabby had a couple of stitches over her left eye.
What a suprise. Stitches over her left eye. Hm. Wonder how that happened? Did the horse maybe get excited and crash her head against something, eh?
A few days after that, Gabby bucked during a lesson and tossed another classmate onto the ground. I heard Betsy make a noise (a noise I have made myself) and then I saw her go up and then she went down, bam, on her left side. Hell’s fire. Gabby wandered around until someone could grab her. I hate to admit it, but there was no way I was going to get off of Mopey and try to grab Gabby — at least while Leah and one of the grooms were around. If there’d been no one about, I would have done something. So now Bets is up and around and using a crutch. As of yesterday, the doctor was thinking it was a cracked femur but Bets is thinking bruised femur. At the time of the incident, she was worried about going off over the top of Gabby’s head (I know this feeling also) or perhaps into the fence post, so she she tried to hang on with her legs while a much more powerful force of gravity was sending her onto the ground.
I’m sorry, but Gabby is not a nice horse. “Nice” is the wrong, wrong word. Gabby may be all gorgeous and stuff, but the damn horse is a pain. Thank goodness stronger and bolder riders than myself love riding her.